So I worry I’m much to late
An excuse, a lie, a troubled date
I’ll say I’m sorry, you’ll say it was fate
Then you’ll leave, and instead I’ll wait
For a ring, a call, a text, a sky written scrawl
Something, anything, just a word that forgives all
*Written for a Friend, whose sorry*
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The problem of the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts while the stupid ones are full of confidence. -nivrad
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